


Seven Minutes in Heaven

by pan_dora



Series: The One With the Steo One-Shots [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dolls, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Party Games, Seven Minutes In Heaven, Steo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26798695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pan_dora/pseuds/pan_dora
Summary: Stiles shudders and presses against the door, pulling Theo with him. “If I die to a doll, I will haunt your sorry ass for the rest of your life.”
Relationships: Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski
Series: The One With the Steo One-Shots [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1120290
Comments: 4
Kudos: 107
Collections: Steo Spooktober





	Seven Minutes in Heaven

Stiles knows a recipe for disaster if he sees one. Theo Raeken, an abandoned house in the outside of Beacon Hills - a house they aren’t technically supposed to be in - and being forced to spend seven minutes in a cramped closet are three things Stiles personally wouldn’t put on his list of things he needs for a great evening. Alas, here he is. Despite knowing better than to play stupid games at a high school party. He felt pretty comfortable watching from the sideline and rolling his eyes over popular kids’ drama. Then he became Lydia’s best friend, and although Stiles still manages to keep his name, body, and mind outside of the worst of it, he’s constantly toeing the line of high school drama. 

Pointedly ignoring Lydia snickering next to him, Stiles gets to his feet. This is going to blow up. Why is it going to blow up? Because Theo has been trying to get in his pants since the beginning of Junior Year. Stiles would’ve probably given in if not for the fact that he isn’t a homewrecker. Sure, Theo has been screwing around ever since the beginning of his relationship, but just because others do it doesn’t mean Stiles has to join the club. Plus, Tracy isn’t above punching people, and Stiles really doesn’t need a black eye. That’ll only cause trouble with his dad. But Theo, in his usual fashion, places a hand on the small of Stiles’ back - ignoring both, his furious girlfriend and the cheering form the guys of his football team - and guides him towards the stairwell. 

Right. The closet was upstairs. Because why the hell not. 

Stiles swallows dryly and climbs the stairs, trying as best as he can to keep enough distance between them that Theo can’t touch him. With the candle the other is holding as their only source of light though, that’s basically impossible. Huffing out a breath, Stiles slows down. Theo’s fingers brush against his lower back almost immediately. His body relaxes against his will. Not that that’s in any way surprising. His body has been a traitor ever since he hit puberty. Stiles doubts that’s ever going to change. Especially not with Theo constantly ignoring the simple phrase ‘I’m not interested’. Sure, technically it’s a lie, but nobody needs to know that. 

“It’s here.” Theo grabs him by the waist and points the candle into the pitch-black room to their right. 

Stiles walks into it. “How do you know that?” 

“We checked out the house beforehand to make sure it’s not gonna kill all of us.”

“How considered of you,” Stiles mocks, glancing over his shoulder into the darkness that’s now behind him. 

The closet door opens with a terrifying creak. Stiles' blood runs cold, and he takes a step back, regretting it when he bumps into something. Although he managed to swallow his yelp, he cannot avoid jumping straight into Theo, who seems to find his reaction exceptionally amusing. Which it isn’t, by the way. If his dad finds out he’s on a party at an abandoned house, he’s going to use his disappointed dad routine - and nothing this side of the universe is worse than his father’s disappointed dad routine. One time Stiles grounded himself for two weeks just so he would stop. 

“We can skip the seven minutes inside that closest if you wanna—”

Stiles shakes his head. “After you, Raeken.” 

“My pleasure.” Without a flicker of hesitation, Theo slips into the closet and holds out his hand. 

Yeah. Sure. 

Jutting his chin in the air, Stiles follows Theo into the closet. Another thing he regrets almost instantly because the closet is tiny. It will be a miracle if the two of them fit in here together without some parts of their body touching the whole time. Stepping into the closet already proves more difficult than previously anticipated. He bumps knees with Theo, who thankfully moves the candle away before it accidentally burns his ear off. 

Stiles purses his lips, trying to get into the closet with his side to Theo. It doesn’t take him long to realise that’ never going to happen. There’s no way they’ll end up having any type of room between them. No fucking. Way. He’s not doing it. Nope. Nope. He barely survives sitting at the table next to him during AP Psychology, how the fuck is he supposed to make it through seven minutes of Theo being so close they’re breathing the same air? 

“Fuck this,” Stiles mutters, stepping out of the closet door. “I’ll take my punishment. Whatever that may be, it cannot be worse than this. 

An arm wraps around his middle. Without warning, Stiles finds himself pressed against Theo’s body. He’s moving them a little, just enough so Theo can grab the doorknob and slams the closet shut, plunging them into a darkness that’s hardly disturbed by the flickering candle somewhere above them. 

“I won’t,” Theo says in a low voice. His mouth is so close to his ear, Stiles can feel his lips move. It’s not the only thing Stiles can feel. There is Theo’s belt buckle pressing against his ass. There’s his now free hand, fingers tracing the outer seam of his jeans. There’s Theo’s warm breath ghosting over the nape his neck. “You really hate me this much?”

Stiles swallows and leans his forehead against the door. Hating Theo would be a lot easier. “Do we have to talk?”

Theo chuckles. “We don’t have to.” His arm around Stiles’ waist tightens a fraction. Enough to be noticeable. Enough to make unmistakably clear what Theo’s intentions are. 

Again, Stiles swallows. This is terrible. This is the absolute worst. “You have a girlfriend.”

“That’s not a no,” Theo whispers then chuckles, “and I certainly wouldn’t call Tracy my girlfriend.”

A finger runs along his stomach, tracing patterns that aren’t there, still safely above the fabric, yet slowly inching towards the hem of his shirt. A v-neck Lydia made him wear. One he certainly didn’t own. One Lydia most likely bought this shirt for him to wear tonight. It wouldn’t be the first time. Stiles has a button-down and skinny jeans in his wardrobe that he only wore one time each. Sure, one could argue it’s just a black shirt, but Stiles would remember this shirt. He would specifically remember it because Theo has never looked at him quite as hungry as when Stiles entered the abandoned building today. 

Not that it matters. 

“I’m not interested.”

Theo chuckles. “And that’s not the truth.” Proving his point, he presses his lips against the spot just behind Stiles’ ear. A shudder runs down his spine, and he covers Theo’s hand with his own. It stops moving, only a finger taps against his stomach. Not impatiently. It’s almost calming in a way. It’s quite the opposite of what Theo’s mouth is doing, of Theo’s teeth tugging on his earlobe, of his body pressing Stiles’ against the door. Fuck. “I’d dump her for you,” Theo whispers, lips ghosting over his jaw now. “I’ll break up with her if you want me to. Just say the word.”

Stiles tightens his grip on Theo’s fingers, presses his hand flat against his stomach and his body against Theo. “I’m not interested in having my heart broken by you, Raeken.” 

“If I had you,” Theo breathes, “I’d have everything I need.” His embrace tightens, and there’s a hint of desperation in his tone, a hint of need, a hint of too much for a small closet inside an abandoned building. 

Stiles shudders, lets out a breath. He shouldn’t trust this, should he? Theo is known to fuck around. Theo is known to cheat, to go too far. Why would Stiles be any different from Tracy? He wants to be. He wished he would be, but—

Without warning, Theo spins him around, steps into personal space. Well, he’s been in there before, but this is entirely different. This is so much more intimate with Theo’s thigh between his legs, and his mouth close to his. So close, they might as well already be kissing. They’re not. They’re not. Stiles will insist they’re not if someone asks. Stiles will insist nothing happens between them. Even though Theo kisses him. Hard and desperate. Even though their hands are roaming over their bodies, pushing away clothes. Even though Stiles can feel heat travelling down, paving a way to his dick. Even though Theo tastes like the sweetest, most forbidden fruit. Even though Theo's mouth explores every inch of his chest, sucking and biting, licking, and laughing. 

Every single time Theo's lips touch his skin, Stiles forgets how to breathe. Quiet whimpers fill the enclosed space, and he bites away a moan when Theo finally works open his jeans. He stares at Theo, dazed and breathless and closer to the edge than he would like to admit. The thought of Theo’s mouth on him, of those blue eyes looking up at him, forces Stiles to lean his head against the door with a groan. 

Fuck. 

Stiles tries to focus on the flickering candlelight, casting odd shadows on the ceiling. But it's almost impossible with Theo working his jeans down his leg, with the chuckle ricocheting through the closet, and Theo warm breath seeping through his boxer briefs. 

His legs tremble, and Stiles mewls at the mere touch of Theo's cold hands against the back of his thigh.

Focus on the shadows. He needs to focus on something else. That's the only way to–

Something catches his eye, and Stiles can’t properly place it in the dim lighting of the candle. It looks like bright green dots on a white background. But when Theo hooks a finger around the waistband of his boxer briefs, it finally clicks. 

Stiles flinches so hard, he almost knocks his knee against Theo's chin. "Ohmygod." The words rush out all at once, and Stiles fumbles for the doorknob. It moves. The door, however, does not. "Fuck. Fuck."

"What?" Theo sounds highly irritated. A feeling Stiles is jealous of. He’d love to be irritated, but his blood is running cold - something he never thought is possible. It’s never too late to learn something new, although right now really isn’t the time for that. At all. He can’t even convince his mind that now would be a great opportunity to articulate what the hell is wrong. However, the words ‘there is a doll staring at me’ get lost somewhere on the way from his brain to his mouth. Because there’s a fucking doll staring at him. So, instead of saying anything, Stiles raises a trembling hand and points. To his utter surprise, Theo isn’t a jerk about it. He gets back on his feet, grabbing Stiles’ waist in the process, and turns to look at what he is pointing at.

The door still doesn’t open. 

Stiles can feel the exact moment Theo spots the doll. Blunt fingernails dig into his side. Theo sucks in a breath, his whole body freezing up. For a moment, Stiles wonders if his blood is running cold as well. “Open the door!”

As if that’s a brand new idea. As if that’s not what Stiles has been trying the whole fucking time. “It doesn’t open.” 

Something moves above them. Stiles can hear the slow drag of a heavy body part scraping over wood. 

Theo pushes him aside, trying the doorknob for himself. The results remain the same, just that Theo adds an impressive string of curses to every single time he twists the knob while the door doesn’t budge. Not even when Theo throws his full body against it. Once. Twice. Three times. It doesn’t do anything but cause a whole lot of noise. 

Someone cackles in the darkness behind them. 

Theo stops moving, and Stiles reaches for him, finding his upper arm. “Please,” he says under his breath, “open this fucking door.” 

“What do you think I’m doing?” 

“Oh my god, Theo,” Stiles snaps, “you go weightlifting like every single day! Do something!”

More laughter. Distinctly louder this time. 

Without a warning, Theo swiftly moves them. Now pinned between Theo and the door, Stiles can’t do more than rattle the doorknob. Again and again and again. But if Theo didn’t get it open then what the hell is he supposed to do? It’s not like he can annoy a fucking door into giving in; and he’s really good at pushing until people do what he wants just so he shuts up. 

Something is scraping against the shelf. 

Stiles shudders and presses against the door, pulling Theo with him. “If I die to a doll, I will haunt your sorry ass for the rest of your life.” 

“Considering that you’re worried about a doll killing you, you’re pretty calm.” 

He doesn’t feel particularly calm, but after all the shit he survived, this isn’t even that bad. “I’ve seen some shit.” And let’s be honest, he cannot die to a haunted doll. 

Another laugh. High-pitched. Distorted. Childlike.

“Define shit,” Theo says, pressing his warm body against his. 

Stiles swallows. “You wouldn’t believe a single word.”

Theo laughs, and despite its humourlessness, the sound is a lot more comforting than everything else he’s heard in the past few minutes. It also makes him pause. “Why are you so calm?” 

“I’ve seen some shit.”

Stiles genuinely isn’t sure how to dissect this answer. If this jerk is mocking him in a life and death situation, he’s going to kill him - in this life or the afterlife. It doesn’t really matter. He’s flexible. And creative. In a lot of aspects of his life, but especially murder. Or so he thinks. After all, he’s seen more than enough police files. He’s also got a great imagination. Under different circumstances, he might even have considered that his mind conjured up this stupid doll. He did not. Theo saw it. This thing is here.

It laughs again. This time, however, it sounds like someone playing a messed up recording on a broken radio. Stiles draws his eyebrows together. What the fuck?

“This piece of—” Theo cuts himself off, takes a deep breath and turns around slams his fist against the door. “Donovan!”

On the other side of the door, someone, presumably Donovan, breaks into near-hysterical laughter. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” Stiles mutters, presses a hand over his eyes. After everything he has seen, Stiles fell for a fucking haunted doll prank. This has to be a joke. How pathetic does he have to be? His paranoia finally got the best of him. Fucking hell, if anybody hears about this, Stiles is never going to live this down. 

Theo slams the side of his fist against the door again. “Donovan!”

The laughter doesn’t stop, but after a moment, something heavy scrapes over the ground outside. Theo immediately opens the door, not even bothering to grab his jacket and shirt. Still laughing, Donovan darts out of the room before Theo manages to set a foot into the room. But Theo doesn’t hurry. He picks up his jacket and shirt, muttering something under his breath Stiles doesn’t catch.

Stiles lets out a breath. “I can’t believe you’re friends with the guy.” 

“I wouldn’t call us friends.”

“Like you wouldn’t call Tracy your girlfriend, huh?”

Theo straightens again and sighs. “We’ve never been official or exclusive. She just doesn’t get the hint.” His expression is painfully genuine, and he keeps looking at him in a way as if he knows exactly what’s going through his head. Perhaps he does. Stiles wouldn’t be surprised. Theo wouldn’t be as effective and high up the social latter if it weren’t for his ability to read people. 

Clearing his throat, Stiles zips up his jeans. “That’s not me.” 

“I don’t want it to be you.” 

Stiles purses his lips and eyes at the doll still sitting on the shelf warily, barely visible in the dim light of the candle. “Were you in on this prank?”

Theo snorts. “Do you really think I would’ve gone through with it after finally getting what I want?” Fair point. Theo is way too greedy to pass up on a chance like this, and he usually isn’t as persistent. But he’s been chasing Stiles for months. When it comes to him, Theo for some reason doesn’t understand the word ‘no’. 

That should probably count for something. 

“I hate dolls,” Stiles says, folding his arms over his chest. He doesn’t know how to respond to anything Theo is saying. 

Theo rubs the nape of his neck. “Would you go on a date with me if I promised you it’s completely doll-free?” 

Heat creeps up Stiles’ neck, and he clears his throat. “My dad taught me better than to go out with guys who try to seduce me in the closet of an abandoned building, but I guess I could make an exception for you.” 

Theo smiles. He seriously smiles. “I like the sound of that.” 

Stiles can’t wait for how this is going to go. 


End file.
